Into the Wind
by Crazy Fool Stiney
Summary: The Team has learned to accept a lot of things while on the run but the sudden death of one of their own may be the hardest. (Face/Murdock)
1. Chapter 1

_**WARNINGS: TEAM MEMBER DEATH, grieving, language, violence, alcohol abuse, slash (Face/Murdock), non-explicit m/m sex  
**_

* * *

_I float against the tide.  
Alone against this cold, cold feeling._

/ / / / /

Face hadn't expected life on the run to be a breeze, nothing ever was. But he definitely hadn't been prepared for the miserable, sometimes thankless existence they'd lived for the last two years. There were a lot of things a career as a soldier of fortune didn't offer; a steady income, a stable place to live, hell, at times even warm food was short on demand.

There was no such thing as vacations anymore and he sorely missed having his own personal space. They still took breaks occasionally, like after the job in Georgia 6 months ago when they'd spent three days at the Russells' beach house. Though it was nice to rest, there had been no space and all four of them were on top of each other the entire time.

/ / / / /

After the last job had gone quicker and easier than expected, Face thought it was the perfect opportunity to approach Hannibal with the possibility of downtime. Presenting it as a house finding mission, Face had casually tacked on '_callyouguysinfivedaystomeetu p'_, as if the breezy attitude would convince the Colonel that it was a good idea.

Hannibal had looked from Face to Murdock, not saying anything as he chewed thoughtfully on his cigar.

Face was about launch into the defense he'd prepared for when Hannibal undoubtedly voiced his disapproval, but the older man had just sighed and waved them off.

At the dismissal, Face and Murdock were out the door and down the highway faster than _'I love it when a plan comes together'_could even be uttered.

And with their teammates a state away, Face and Murdock were alone for the first time in a very long while. Once they'd arrived at the secluded lake house Face had scammed, they'd set out to spend every minute in naked bliss.

Midday swims, horseplay and racing against each other in the water until they'd tumble to the blanket on the shore, where their laughter soon turned to the gasps and moans of unhurried love making.

Evenings in the gigantic California King, the two of them lying close as they watched episodes of _'Monty Python'_and laughing like they hadn't seen them a million times before.

And last night, with Murdock's harsh chant of _'harder, harder'_echoing around the room while Face's hands braced his shoulders. Each solid thrust had pressed H.M. face down into the mattress. Rough and fast but afterwards there'd been soft, loving murmurs as they sleepily slotted their spent bodies beside each other.

/ / / / /

Out of all of those things, Face believed that _this _could possibly be his favorite. Cradled against Murdock's body as they moved in the perfect rhythm they'd found in each other almost instantly, two years ago.

"Temp." The pilot panted, tugging Face down into a hard, sloppy kiss as he shuddered beneath the conman.

Face, still plunging deep into his lover's pliant body, had a second to marvel at how sharp and focused Murdock became immediately after orgasm. But then the pilot was grinning devilishly as he rolled his hips and Face was gone, charging blindly after his own release.

Unlike H.M., Face was practically incoherent after sex, mumbling wordlessly against Murdock's sweat slicked skin. As his breathing returned to normal, the conman contently drifted until the pilot started shifting with discomfort.

"Uhf, no more dessert for you. I swear you're heavier than when we got here." Murdock playfully chided as Face moved off him with a grumble and stretched himself out onto the rumpled sheets.

As he lazily rubbed a palm over the leg Murdock had flung over his, Face cracked his eyes open to see the pilot smiling widely at him.

"What?"

"Let's go into town." Murdock answered, skimming fingers through Face's damp hair.

"Mmm, nap." Face pouted, the power of speech still mostly eluding him.

Murdock watched him with calm, steady eyes before nudging his shoulder. "Come on. Lunch."

"We have food. Plus, town means clothes." Face patted the pilot's ass as Murdock laughed and nuzzled alongside him.

"Let's stay right here." Face murmured into the pilot's shaggy hair. '_I want this all the time.'_

"You can sleep but I'm going." Murdock started to move and Face wrapped himself stubbornly around his slighter frame.

"Stay."

"I need to shower."

Face made a disgruntled noise as Murdock pried himself loose and padded off towards the bathroom.

"Wanna join me?" He questioned suggestively.

"Nope. Napping and not feeling guilty about it at all." Face stated; pulling the blanket over his head as Murdock made a flustered noise.

"I'll remember that refusal!"

/ / / / /

Face didn't know how long he'd been asleep when his cell phone rang.

_'I am so getting some of these sheets.' _He thought as he absently answered the phone. "Hey buddy, I swear I'm up. I'll meet…"

_"Mr. Lawrence?"_The unfamiliar female voice asking for him by his current alias had the same effect as being doused with cold water. He bolted upright, gripping the phone tightly.

"Who is this?" He asked warily.

_"My name's Sheila. I'm calling from the Columbus County Hospital for Mr. Lawrence. It's about Mr. Milton. There's been an accident."_

/ / / / /

The moment Face hung up the phone everything became a blur. He moved, but didn't fully take in his surroundings until he was standing at the nurses' station, shoving a fake ID at the woman behind the counter.

"I'm here about Kenneth Milton. Someone called. Is he alright? What the hell happened?" Face hit her with a barrage of questions as he tried to keep his panic in check.

She glanced at a chart on the desk then fixed him with a calm expression. "If you have a seat in the waiting room a doctor will be right out."

As soon as she turned away, Face tried to get information from the other nurses, his frustration only ramping up further as each one smoothly rebuffed him.

When it was clear there'd be no answers, he grudgingly went to the waiting area where he paced like a tiger in a cage until a short, balding man came through the door.

"Mr. Lawrence?" The man asked then outstretched a hand. "I'm Dr. Morgan."

"Jesus fuck. What's going on?" Face demanded, not even minding the older couple that gasped at his blasphemy.

"Would you please come with me?"

He followed, though they didn't go very far, stopping just around the corner before the doctor turned and looked at him.

"There was an accident. Mr. Milton was hit by a truck while crossing the street in town."

At the words Face felt the panic coil tight and dangerous in the pit of his stomach.

"Where is he?"

A look flickered over the doctor's features and Face's alarm turned to icy dread.

Dr. Morgan shook his head. "I'm sorry…"

_'No, no, no.'_Face's mind raced as he grabbed the doctor by the coat. "Sorry? What do you mean sorry?"

Practiced demeanor quickly became distress as the other man struggled to extract himself from Face's grasp. "Mr. Lawrence, we did everything we could."

"What? No… this…" Face's hands slipped from the doctor's lapels. This was wrong. The rushing in his ears was too loud, making him misunderstand what was said.

Once released, the man's sympathetic air quickly returned. "Is there someone you can call?"

"I want to see him. Let me see him." Face pleaded as he started to shake.

"Alright. We can do that." A reassuring hand was placed on his arm and it took everything in Face not to violently shrug it off.

/ / / / /

Standing in the cold, sterile air of the morgue, Face tried not to gag as bile rose in his throat. Mouth sour and suddenly filling with drool, he took a shaky breath, willing himself not to vomit.

_Hot slobbers._ That's what Murdock was always calling it. Murdock. _Murdock._His best friend. The one person he believed he'd never find, right there in front of him for so long before he'd even realized it.

_Their first job had gone off relatively well and despite their injuries Face and Murdock had whooped and snickered in the van all the way back to the safe house. The excitement and elation that radiated from the pilot had Face feeling completely laid bare, so much so that he hadn't even hesitated before he'd leaned over and crushed their mouths together._

_Murdock had frozen for the tiniest of seconds before clinging to him, responding with as much fervor in return. Gasping for air, they parted and the pilot had given Face a look like he'd finally gotten the punch line of a joke Murdock had told ages before. And when B.A.'s irritated huff of "'bout time" had come from the front seat, the pair just burst into more peals of laughter._

_'That's Murdock.'_

As Face's eyes slid over the sheet covered body he jerked when someone patted his hand.

"Mr. Lawrence, the identification's already been made. If you don't think you can..." The brunette attendant looked up at him with kindness but he shook his head, stopping her before she could go any further.

"There are injuries that Mr. Milton sustained on the right side of the body that you should be aware of." She continued, but Face only vaguely listened.

He could do this. _Had to. _He didn't have a choice_._

He nodded and she pulled back the sheet, effectively shattering the small sliver of disconnected calm he'd been tenuously holding onto.

"Oh, buddy." Face's lungs contracted and he wheezed as he reached out. "Baby."

Murdock. His crazy, amazing best friend. The love of his incredibly fucked up life, lying so still on the table. _It shouldn't be like this. **He** shouldn't be like this._

Traces of blood still matted the hair Face's fingers had heatedly tangled in just that morning. He gently touched the left side of the pilot's face, carefully avoiding the right, marred by bloody road rash.

A hand was at his shoulder. "Mr. Lawrence…"

"Stay away from me." Face sobbed as he leaned over and burrowed against the lifeless pilot's neck.

Over ten years. Some part of him had been in love with Murdock from the moment the pilot had landed that piece of shit helicopter after the Tuco fiasco. It'd taken him so long to admit it and now, in an instant, it was gone.

No more trying to keep a serious expression while the pilot rambled on during the middle of a con. No horribly timed, yet amusing discussions of extragalatic blancmange puddings during sex. He would never again see that unadulterated look of amusement in green eyes even when Murdock knew his actions would make B.A. angry.

_'Bosco. Hannibal.' _Dark spots suddenly swam in Face's vision as the sheet was put back in place.

"I need… I gotta make a call." Face stammered as a male attendant that hadn't been there before, steered him towards the waiting area again.

Once alone tears obscured his vision, making the phone hard to see. Frantically wiping at his eyes he hit the button and waited, breath ragged as he listened to the ringing.

"Hannibal." He choked as soon as the line picked up.

_"Face? What's going on?"_

"Columbus County Hospital."

Hannibal's voice was clipped and brisk and no more questions were asked. _"We'll be there."_

At the dial tone Face slid the phone into his pocket and looked down at his hands. Hands that had run over Murdock's warm, breathing body only a few short hours ago. Fingers that had trailed over sides and danced over ribs, causing the pilot to laugh and squirm under him.

_Should have gotten your lazy ass up. _He tugged at his hair, the pain doing nothing to stop his mind's own accusations. _This is your fault. You couldn't even be bothered to get out of bed._

"Face."

His head shot up in confusion at Hannibal's voice. There's no way they could already be there. He'd just called.

Face stared dumbfounded at the Colonel then at the clock over the older man's shoulder.

Three hours. _How_had three hours slipped by?

"What's going on, man? Where's Murdock?" B.A. asked; the mask of annoyance usually in place when speaking of the pilot replaced by genuine concern.

"My fault. Oh god, all my fault." Face groaned before he was being hauled up and slammed hard against the wall behind his chair.

B.A.'s fists were knotted in the front of his shirt and the big man was so close Face could feel his breath with each word.

"What the fuck did you do, Face? Where's Murdock?"

Face shook his head as unguarded tears streamed down his cheeks. "Gone. Bosco, he's gone. I wasn't there. I should have been there."

"B.A., let him go." Hannibal pulled at the mechanic's shoulder and he seemed to fold in on himself, sagging into a chair, as hands came up to cover his face.

Hannibal stared at Face for a moment and the conman had never felt so terrified. Hannibal Smith, the strong, stoic Colonel now stood in front of him, eyes bright and confused. "What…?"

He didn't have a chance to get anything else out as Face shoved past him and bent over the trashcan in the corner where he began to violently vomit.


	2. Chapter 2

_Who's the one to blame?_  
_Oh, you know you're all afraid of_  
_What life's really all about_

/ / / / /

"Face."

He heard Hannibal's voice tugging at him in the enclosed space of the car but he couldn't look at the other man. He didn't think he could take any more of the lost expression the Colonel hadn't been able to shake for hours.

At least with B.A. there'd been anger and accusation in the glances he'd thrown the conman's way. And Face took a strange comfort in that, knowing that someone else blamed him as well. _Because it's your fault._

Instead Face stared at the neatly hung rows of tools on the far end of the lake house's garage. His head throbbed, an almost blinding pain that radiated from his left eye. His stomach sour and throat raw from puking, from screaming. He yanked the hair at the nape of his neck and didn't quite remember even leaving the hospital, much less getting back here.

_"If you sign these papers we can contact Dees for transport so you don't have to. They're the only funeral home in town."_

Closing his eyes Face heard Hannibal sigh before a big hand was placed on his forearm.

_"I just need your signature here so we can release Mr. Milton's things to you. Give me a little bit and I'll have someone bring them up."_

_Milton._ _"That's not his goddamned name!"_ Face had wanted to shout every time it'd passed someone's lips. _Not his real name._ But no one would ever know, except the three of them.

Hannibal's hand started drumming a familiar tattoo, one Face had seen the Colonel tap on skin countless times over the years. A technique used to draw someone out of themselves.

_Murdock._

Face didn't even think the older man had been aware of the gesture until Face flattened a palm over his hand, effectively stopping the motion. He saw a flash of recognition before Hannibal turned away. "Come on, kid. We should get inside."

/ / / / /

Face didn't touch the wall switch when he walked into the bedroom, light would only draw attention to Murdock's stuff. They'd only been at the house for three days, but in true fashion, the pilot's belongings had exploded all over the place the moment they'd got there.

"Fuck." Face growled, stumbling over something that he immediately snatched off the floor. _One of the pilot's sneakers. _

"Fuck. Fuck this. Fuck you." He shouted, launching the shoe across the room. The action was immediately followed by a crash when the lamp in the reading area hit the floor.

Face's body shook as anger flared up. Anger towards the stupid, fucking driver of the truck. And Murdock,because he knew how the pilot could be, he'd get wrapped up in something and not pay attention. Face had pulled him back from busy street corners many times.

_But not this time._ His brain howled, saving the brunt of his anger for himself. _You weren't there when he needed you the most._

Face crumpled to the bed where only 12 hours ago he'd been tangled up with the pilot. Snippets of songs, words in unfamiliar languages had fallen from his lover's smiling mouth as he drew Face in and held him close. Exuberantly making love like it was the first time, neither of them knowing it would be the last.

His hands desperately grabbed at rumpled sheets that still smelled like them. _Like Murdock._ Burying his face into the pilot's pillow, he breathed in a scent he knew would be gone too soon as he wordlessly wailed.

/ / / / /

"H.M.?" Face jerked awake, his hand automatically reaching out to the empty side of the bed. Dim morning light was coming in through the windows and when his brain caught up he felt the room tilt.

_"No."_

He sat up, dragging the hospital bag to him and dumping it into his lap. He stared at the random items that only Murdock could have brought sense to. Slot machine tokens from the Vegas job six months ago, an unopened bag of sour gummi worms, the pocket watch that'd stopped working long ago that had belonged to H.M.'s grandfather. Murdock had confided in Face the reason it had stayed broken was because he didn't want to replace even the tiniest bit of the watch that'd meant so much to the old man.

Fingers trembled over the red baseball cap before he upended it and brought it to his face.

It should have been disgusting. Murdock was sweaty by nature and Face couldn't even remember the last time the cap had even seen the inside of a washer. But he didn't care as he inhaled deeply, taking in the strong smell of dirt, sweat, _Murdock_.

A hesitant smile tugged at his lips at the faint scent of citrus. _The expensive shampoo that he'd bought for himself._ The bottle had magically emptied way too soon even after he continuously switched his hiding places for it.

A brutal stab of longing shot through him and Face closed his eyes trying to regain his bearings.

_Face had to hand it to Hannibal; this could have possibly been the absolute worst plan the Colonel had ever come up with. Throwing him into a house with two complete strangers, one of which they'd only two weeks ago plucked out of a mental hospital. _

_"Team building." Hannibal had amusingly grinned around his cigar and Face had known that nothing was going to change his mind._

But it didn't mean Face had to like it and he wasn't going to, just to spite the old man.

_And nothing would change **Face's** mind, not even the awesome smells that'd started coming from the kitchen._

_The pilot stood at the stove humming a vaguely recognizable tune while wearing a t-shirt and cargos, both baggy on his too skinny frame. _

_"Pull up a counter, Faceman." He'd drawled without even looking away from the bubbling pot. "I don't bite…unless you're into that sorta thing. But I ain't supposed to ask, so you probably shouldn't tell." _

_He had winked over his shoulder as Face leaned against the counter. _

_"What are you cooking?" _

_"A little of this and a little of that. Wanna taste?" He'd held out the spoon in Face's direction. _

_As he cautiously tasted the concoction, the Lieutenant noticed the other man's smile that'd been fractured and wholly manic a short time ago was now calmer and less scattered. _

_"Shit. That's good, man." Face had stated and his shock had been met by a warm laugh._

_"Gramma Murdock's world famous chili, with a little special kick from yours truly." _

_'Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.' Face had thought after his own laughter had quickly joined the pilot's._

_He had eventually found out what the special kick had been when months later he had come into the kitchen earlier in the Murdockian cooking process. **Plaster of Paris.**_

Face lowered the hat, his chest tight as he tried to take something more than shallow breaths that wouldn't fill his lungs.

"I can't do this." Face loudly announced as he moved off the bed, the remaining contents of the bag spilling from his lap onto the floor.

/ / / / /

Hannibal heavily sat down at the table and ran a hand over his face, feeling older than he ever had, even more than after going on the run. Morning had come too soon, his eyes burned from lack of sleep and he was in dire need of a cigar. The last one had been smoked as they'd sped down the interstate after Face's call yesterday.

He looked to B.A. sitting opposite him and sighed.

There would have been no one that could have doubted how much the pilot meant to Bosco if they'd been in the garage the last night.

B.A. had raged, ripping things off the walls, boards and nails creaking at the force. He'd sent tools scattering when he upended a work bench. He'd screamed blame, at the driver, at Face and at the military for putting them in the position in the first place.

Hannibal had leaned against the car and forcefully tamped down the urge to join B.A. in his violent grief. He had ignored the heavy pangs in his chest as Bosco finally slumped to the floor in sudden, deafening silence.

He had gone to B.A. then, hand tightly gripping the other man's broad shoulders as they shuddered with his quiet sobs. Hannibal tuned out his own clawing sorrow; knowing that he needed to stay focused when his boys needed him like never before.

"What are we gonna do, Bossman?" B.A. asked, voice cracking with overuse, his expression utterly gutted.

The words, _"I don't know"_ were the only thing that flashed through Hannibal's mind before loud ringing drew their attention away from the question.

Hannibal moved quickly to the counter and picked up Face's cell phone.

"Hello? No, he's still sleeping but I can help." He avoided B.A.'s inquiring stare as he _hmm'd_ in acknowledgment to the person on the other end of the line. "Yes. Thank you."

He hung up and saw Bosco's hands tighten into fists, as if steeling himself against the words he knew were coming.

"That was the funeral home."

/ / / / /

"Face." Hannibal called out, standing in the hall. He knocked once more and when no answer came, he opened door.

Looking around the empty room, he mentally added the smashed lamp to the inventory of things that would need to be replaced before they left.

"Face?" He stepped towards the equally vacant bathroom. "Where the hell are you?" He muttered before bending down beside the bed to go through Murdock's duffle bag.

_"We need you to bring clothes for Mr. Milton."_

Hannibal didn't know where Face was but this was one thing he could do so the kid didn't have to.

He pulled t-shirts and pants out of the bag, the garments severely wrinkled from having been shoved haphazardly into the duffle. The Colonel shook his head fondly at the memory of how many times Face had tried to show the pilot how to pack to no avail.

Hannibal felt a slight awkward flush as his eye caught the bottle of lube sitting on the bedside table.

He'd known, of course. The pair wouldn't have been able to hide it, even if he hadn't, with great discomfort, witnessed their coming together after their first job on the run.

He didn't understand, and yes, there'd been tense moments and shouting in the months that had followed. But then Hannibal saw that the relationship hadn't interfered with the job and nothing had changed in their day to day life. That it was still just Face and Murdock. The difference pretty much only being the need for one less bed in the house. They were still his boys, his team and so he'd let it go.

He got back to the task at hand. And as he placed the clothes on the bed, he was thankful that there'd at least been a brief bright spot of happiness for the pair to enjoy, before...

He stood up, grabbing the least creased shirt and pants as he heard Face's phone again.

When Hannibal walked into the kitchen B.A. looked at him with befuddlement. "Face is at the funeral home."

"What?" Hannibal's eyes flicked to the two sets of car keys sitting on the counter. "How?"

/ / / / /

_15 miles._That's how far it was from the lake house to town…and how far Face had decided to run that morning.

_"What else was there for me to do, Boss?"_

As he watched the men in front of him Hannibal was struck by a sense of déjà vu.

B.A. dug one of his shirts out of a bag in the back of the van before handing it to Face. The conman, sweaty and exhausted, shivered against chilled morning air as he pulled the shirt on.

They'd been here before, the three of them. In an almost identical van as they hurdled down the road away from Tuco and towards a Mexican hospital, _towards Murdock._

B.A. leaned close to Face; something whispered that had the Lieutenant nodding vigorously as his eyes glistened and his hand clamped down hard enough on Bosco's bicep that Hannibal saw his knuckles whiten.

/ / / / /

"I've got more stuff to go over but they said you can…" Face, voice tired and flat, vaguely gestured away from the waiting area where Hannibal and B.A. sat. "Let me get Roberta."

"Face, I'll take care of it. Are you sure you don't need help?" Hannibal asked, even though he knew his offer would be rebuffed.

"No, I got it." Face swallowed dryly, his throat making an audible click. "Go. Go see H.M." He ran a hand over his mouth before ducking back into the office.

/ / / / /

"Take as much time as you need." The young woman, Roberta, spoke softly before leaving Hannibal and B.A. and gently closing the door behind her.

Hannibal's heart tumbled painfully in his chest as they moved to where Murdock was laid out.

The Colonel had always prepared himself; they all had, for the possibility that there'd be a time when one of them wouldn't come back from a job. They lived a dangerous life, certain death being almost inevitable…but _this_, this was different. The random tragedy of it made the whole thing harder to even begin to come to terms with.

Hannibal looked down at the pilot and was jarred by the lack of substantial visible injuries. He'd countless times seen the Captain in worse shape just dust himself off and move on.

_"Severe internal trauma." The nurse had quietly informed them and he had done his best to take Face's weight as the younger man sagged against him._

"Damn, Bossman. You couldn't have picked him some better damned clothes." B.A. grumbled as he smoothed out Murdock's shirt.

The absurdity of the words and motherly action cut sharply through the Colonel's grief and Hannibal turned to see nothing but understanding through the big man's tears.

And at the sight of Bosco reaching for one of the thin hands he'd infinitely batted away from him over the last 10 years, Hannibal felt his eyes well up and knew there'd be no staunching the flow this time.


End file.
